Consulting Demons
by writtenwithfeathers
Summary: 10 years ago Moriarty sold his soul to Crowley to help get his name as a consulting criminal. While he was bringing down Sherlock he knew he could use his death as leverage as his 10 year contract was coming to an end and he knew that Crowley would come to take his soul and kill him. Now Crowley has brought him back to help track down Sam and Dean... (superlock)
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: *I do not own any of the characters*

* * *

Prologue

* * *

Black. Darker then the night sky. That was the last thing Jim Moriarty remembered. Darkness was now followed by a glowing light, a yellow box of light that cast a shadow of a man. A man he had seen before.

"Crowley," He exclaimed, "Have you come back for seconds? God knows I've been craving your touch."

"Oh how I've missed you Moriarty, so glad you're finally mine," Crowley said.

"This isn't how I imagined hell," Moriarty said motioning to the empty dark room. "I thought there would be fire."

"You're not in hell, not yet," Crowley said, a hidden smile in his words.

Moriarty smiled up at Crowley. He was already putting the pieces together.

"I have an offer for you," Crowley began, "I need someone to find out what the Winchesters are up to."

"You need a consulting criminal."

"And you're the only one I own."

"And what will I get?" Moriarty pushed.

"I haven't decided yet. "

"And if I don't want to."

"Then you'll burn in hell for all eternity, I'd be fine with either one."

There was a moment of silence. Crowley was smiling at Moriarty, who was stalling, looking for something else he could get.

"You need me," Moriarty said, "or else I would be burning in hell right now. So here are my terms."

"You don't get to make terms."

"I help you with these idiots, and I get my soul back."

" Don't under estimate them," Crowley warned, ignoring Moriarty's terms.

"I. Get. My. Soul. Back." Moriarty snarled.

"Fine," Crowley said rolling his eyes, "It's not like you have much of one."

Moriarty placed his hand on his chest pretending to be appalled. He chuckled then dropped his hand his face in a frown.

"I really dislike being bored," Moriarty sighed.

"Ohh, don't worry. These boys will give you plenty to do."

"And what exactly is it that I will 'do'?"

"I need you to set up cases that will attract the boys. Once they catch you're first case, lead them on a trail of other cases, make sure they have options. Keep on their trail, find out what their up to." Crowley stated

"Seems easy enough," He sighed again. "Oh, before I forget. We need to seal the deal."

"Can't you keep your hands to yourself."

"Not when I'm around you," Moriarty said.

Moriarty and Crowley walked over to each other. Crowley grabbed the back of Moriarty's neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

* * *

Authors note: I just want to thanks Crystal for helping me with the premise of the story. You can follow her on tumblr as disappointedpudding.

The next chapter will be coming out very soon. I hope you enjoyed the prologue. Please review.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter one: A Cure for Boredom

* * *

Dean sat with his feet up and a hamburger in his hand. Sam was on his laptop looking for a new case, and Dean sat there, bored. It had been week since they had had a case and Kevin still hadn't gotten a hold of them.

Sam scrolled down a page of news articles, trying to find ones that sounded suspicious. A lot of them were out of the way or weren't worth their time, until he came across an article about three deaths. All of them had a missing heart, and all of them were reported to have been an animal. Sam smiled and turned to Dean, who was just finishing up his hamburger.

"I think I just found us a case," Sam said.

"About damn time."

* * *

A body slid forward lying on a cold metal table.

"And all the bodies that were found were missing a heart?" Sam asked.

"Yes, this one just got in today. Fourth body in a week, I'm starting to think it's not an animal." said the pathologist. He was a short balding man in his late forties.

"Why do you say that?" Dean asked, taking off his gloves.

"Well… I knew him."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Sam said.

He nodded, taking a long look as his fallen friend.

"Well before he died, he was trying to tell anyone who would listen that it wasn't an animal, that he had seen what was doing this," He stopped and waved it off.

"It's okay, you can tell us," Sam said,

"He said that it was a person. A man… he," His sentence dropped as his voice cracked.

"It's okay. Thank you, that's all we need," Sam said, pretending to scribble what he was just told into a small notepad.

"Can you tell us where he lived?" Dean asked, motioning to the body that was now being pushed back into its metal box.

"Uhm…. 22113 Bakerson St."

* * *

Sam and Dean got back to the motel, exhausted. Dean fell onto his designated bed, one arm across his body, the other hanging off the bed. Sam grabbed the remote and turned on the T.V.

"He's the werewolf, Dean. There were four people who said they saw him leave that house. Four! He killed this guy to keep him quiet and now he's screwed himself. Whatever, it makes it easier to take him out," Sam said, his eyes glued to the television, surfing channel after channel.

"I just need thirty minutes and then we'll go stake out that guy's house," Dean said, adjusting his body on the bed, moving the pillow so that it was comfortable under his head.

"Kay," Sam said getting comfortable on his own bed.

Dean closed his eyes, his body facing Sam, His hand on a Knife under his pillow.

Dean woke up to a knock at the door. He sat up quickly, gripping the knife in his hands, ready for whatever was at the door. Sam and Dean exchanged a glance, then nodded. Sam walked to the door, Dean to the window. Dean switched the knife out for a gun and faced it toward the floor. He used his free hand to move the blinds and look out the window.

There was a tall man with dark curly hair, a black coat, and a blue scarf. Dean looked at Sam with a confused expression then nodded, giving a signal that it was okay to open the door.

"Hello?" Sam said.

The man gave a quick glance and with a straight face he said: "You can put the guns away, I'm here to help."

Sam and Dean looked at each other; their body's tensing just slightly.

"And you are?" Dean said, his gun still pointing to the floor.

"I am one of you," the man replied.

"You're a hunter?" Sam said with a laugh, "You look way to clean to be a hunter."

"Is that what it's called here?"

"What's it called in Britain," Dean asked saying the word 'Britain' with an accent.

"Well I had assumed I was the only one in the world, I guess I was right." The man said as if it were an inside joke.

"Stop dodging the question! Who are you?" Dean said. He prepared the gun.

"I'm a consulting detective, the names Sherlock Holmes." He said reaching out his hand.

Sam and Dean looked at his hand and shook their heads. Sherlock brought his hand down and placed it behind his back.

"What makes you think you can help us?"

"Because I have some information that you don't," Sherlock said, almost smug.

"Come in," Sam said opening the door wider and exposing the gun that was in his right hand.

Sherlock walked in with a smile on his face and stood in front of both beds.

"Please," Dean said grabbing the chair from the desk and flipping it so that it was facing out, "Sit."

Sherlock smirked at him, ignoring Dean who was obviously not playing around. He still clutched at his gun, watching Sherlock intently. Sam on the other hand didn't find a reason to not trust this man, but followed along with his brother.

"I've worked a case similar to this one," Sherlock began.

"Yeah, so have we," Dean said sternly.

Sherlock looked at them, cocking his head to the side.

"So you're familiar with the fog then?" Sherlock said.

Sam and Dean exchanged another look.

"Fog?" they said simultaneously.

"Yes, the fog," Sherlock said annoyed.

"It's foggy here, yes. What does that have to do with anything?" Dean asked.

Sherlock let out a sigh and rolled his eyes, his hand shooting out in front of him as he began to explain the fog.

"Whoever is killing people is using the fog to disguise himself, and we both know who he is. See, when I worked this case in Baskerville fog was used as a weapon, a poison that makes you see you're worst fear, or what you fear to be out there. Everyone has said they saw an animal, because that's what the newspapers said. But it was a man.

"He must have known Dr. Frankland, when he was in America, which is why he would have this bio-chemical and how he is using it to alter people's minds. The last man he killed saw him commit the crimes without being exposed to the fog, now shall we go and get some evidence so that these idiot police officers can stop looking for an animal that doesn't exist?" Sherlock spoke quickly and Sam and Dean's faces were strewed in confusion.

"You are…like me? Right?" Sherlock asked.

"And what are you?"

"I solve the cases that can't be solved, a consu-"

"Yes a consulting detective. You've mentioned it," Dean said. "We," He said motioning between him and his brother, "solve the cases that can't be solved. But not the cases you think."

"Well, we're on the same trail anyways, so can I join you? I work better when I can talk out loud."

"We're gonna need to run some tests first," Dean said.

"Tests?"

"Yeah," Sam said, "It's just something we do to make sure we can trust someone."

"Okay. Ask me anything," Sherlock said, stretching his arms out as if the words would manifest and go into his open arms.

Sam laughed and unscrewed the cap to his flask of holy water. He walked up to Sherlock who was giving him a curious look.

"What the…" Sherlock said wiping the water from his face, "That was… unexpected."

"Then you're gonna shit your pants with this one," Dean said rummaging through his bag. He pulled out silverware.

"Hold these," Dean said.

Sherlock grabbed them, his eyes squinting at the boys.

"You have an odd initiation," Sherlock joked. He didn't care what he had to do; he just wanted to work on this case with someone who would work with him.

He hadn't been able to continue his work as easily as he had in London. No one knew who he was in America, which was a good thing, but that also meant he was lonely and bored.

"You're good," Sam said with a small laugh.

"Alright let's go," Dean said turning around, still not fully trusting Sherlock.

Sherlock jumped up in excitement, "Finally!" he said.

Dean got in the driver's seat and looked in his rearview mirror at Sherlock who was looking more excited than he should be. Then his excitement vanished.

He was looking out the window, as they drove off the lot, and in the distance was a man he knew all too well. A man he had watched die, had seen kill himself in front of him.

"Moriarty," He said under his breath.

* * *

"We may have a problem," Moriarty said into the phone.

"What is it now? First it's the werewolf, now what is it? Did someone else see him?" Crowley said annoyed.

"No, worse."

Silence on both ends.

"Well tell me," Crowley said his voice laced with annoyance.

"Sherlock is here."

"Sher… the man you killed yourself for?" He laughed. "Guess he won after all."

"He didn't win!" Moriarty yelled. "He wouldn't be in America if he had."

"Okay well what about him?"

"He's helping the Winchesters."

Crowley closed his eyes and placed his thumb and index finger on the bridge of his nose.

"I'll take care of him," Crowley said, then hung up.

Crowley looked back at a man standing behind him then nodded. Black smoke came out of the man's mouth like a reversed tornado.

* * *

**Authors note: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Please review, it will be much appreciated. **

**Next chapter will be out very soon.**


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Black eyes

* * *

The impala sat exactly two houses away from the suspects house and across the street. Sam, Dean, and Sherlock sat there staring at the house, waiting for something to happen.

Dean continually looked back at Sherlock, his suspicions of him still on high alert. Now, they were even higher because Sherlock was acting fidgety. He continued to look out the window, straining his head to look around, then scooting over on the other side of the car and looking out that window.

"Okay," Dean said, "That's it. What is going on with you, when we said you could come with us you looked excited. Too dam excited. Now what's up with you? Haven't you _seen_ a case like this?"

"Yes I have," Sherlock said, his voice shaking.

"Then why are you acting like this?"

Sherlock didn't say anything. He just looked out the window.

"You tell us, or we set you lose on whatever's chasing you." Dean said pointing his gun back at Sherlock.

Sherlock turned and stared down the barrel. He bit his bottom lip then looked down at his hands that were clasped around each other.

"I…I thought I saw Moriarty." He began. Sam and Dean looked at each other then back at him, "Moriarty is why I'm in America. I thought he had died. I watched him kill himself."

He brushed it off, "No, it's just the fog, I've been exposed to it." He said taking in a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

Dean looked at Sam who was giving this man a sympathetic look. He put the gun down.

"What if it's not the fog," Sam said. His voice was soothing.

"Then what? A werewolf?" Sherlock scoffed.

Sam and Dean laughed.

"Well…" Sam said shrugging.

Sherlock looked up, he suddenly realized that they weren't looking for the same thing.

"You don't really believe it's a werewolf, do you?" He asked. He leaned forward grabbing the front seat to pull him self up to them.

"No," Dean said sarcastically.

Sherlock laughed. "Oh, well this will be fun when we find out who's right."

"We know who's right." Dean said, staring into Sherlock's eyes. "Us," He said motioning to him and his brother.

"Forty dollars says I'm right," Sherlock said, a smile across his face.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look and smiled.

"Easy money," Dean said reaching his hand out.

Sherlock took it.

"Let the games begin."

* * *

Dean was resting his head on his hand, staring out at the house, waiting for the man to leave. They had been sitting there for an hour and Sherlock was talking non-stop about how this man was using fog and how it was very coincidental that the last death had happened at an address very close to his. 22113 Bakerson St. he laughed. "Almost like my old flat. 221B Baker St." He went on and on, laying out clues and Dean and Sam just let him continue because they liked that better then the silence that usually led to them remembering someone from their past.

Sam and Dean sat up when they saw the man leaving his house. Dean started up the car and was beginning to drive away when Sherlock said "stop,"

"What? Don't tell me you have more to say?" Dean said.

"No, I'm going to go in the house, you guys follow him. All the evidence I need will be in there. That way we can stop this guy and I can get my money," Sherlock said grinning at them as he put black leather gloves on.

"Fine, go. Go! Meet us back at the motel. Go! We're losing him," Dean said waving his arm up for Sherlock to get out.

Sherlock got out the car his excited smile returning to his face. He ran over to the house, his coat flying back with the wind as Sam and Dean drove off.

Sherlock went to the back of the house and went straight to the screen door. He pulled it and it slid open. He grinned, excited that he had been right about his man. He had deduced that he had many drunken nights stumbling into the back yard and getting into the house that way as using a key would be too hard to use with his shaking hands. He lived in a good enough neighborhood that he felt safe enough to leave the sliding back door open, and although no one would ever think to break in like this, he hadn't anticipated that Sherlock Holmes would come by to break in.

Sherlock went straight to the basement door, realizing that the most logical place to store the bio chemical items would be in the basement. He opened the door, found the light switch and proceeded to descend into the basement.

* * *

Sam and Dean were watching David, the man they suspected to be the werewolf as he entered a liquor store. They watched as the man was denied alcohol and thrown out of the store. Dean looked over to Sam with a small smirk.

"Video tape this," he said.

"What? Why?" Sam questioned.

"I want my money and we sure as hell are not bringing this guy back to the motel. We're gonna take him out but look at him," Dean said turning to look at the man who was hunched over on the floor, gritting at his teeth. "He's about to change and we can't lure him over to that Sherlly guy so this is the only way."

"I…" Sam hesitated.

"Dude, just delete it after," Dean said getting out the car.

* * *

Sherlock walked down the stairs, his senses on high alert. He looked around the basement and everything looked normal. A few beer cans, a TV and a long couch that could turn into a bed.

"No this isn't right," Sherlock said, spinning around the room. Everything looked…normal. No sign of a biochemical toxin in sight.

Sherlock looked up when he caught something in the corner of his eye. Black smoke was coming out of a vent in the corner of the room. He smiled, there it was. It may look different then the other fog that he had seen in Baskerville, but there was no doubt in his mind that that was the fog.

He went over to the vent and found a stool. He placed it near the wall and stood on it. The fog was coming out the vent faster now… it was moving toward his face. He jumped back down off the stool and adjusted his scarf to go over his nose and mouth. He looked up and the fog was in front of him, choking him. His eyes widened in fear.

* * *

Sam was laughing as he rewatched the video he had taken on his phone.

"We're not showing him that," Dean said leaning over in the car.

They were heading back to the motel after having taken out the werewolf and disposed of the body.

"No, we have to show him," Sam laughed as he rewinded the video and stopped it when Dean's pants had fallen down.

Dean reached out to try and grab the phone and Sam leaned away still laughing at the incident.

"You show him and I will murder you," Dean said as he pulled into the motel parking lot.

"This is worth it. Plus I'll get forty bucks,"

"Dammit Sammy!"

Dean parked. He leaned over to Sam and again attempted to steal the phone. Sam held it out of reach and used the other hand to unbuckle himself and get out the car. Dean tried to get out the car but was stopped by his seat belt.

"Shit," He whispered as he unbuckled himself.

Sam was already to the room.

"Look at this," Sam said when he saw Sherlock standing outside their room.

"I WILL MURDER YOU SAM!" Dean yelled as he opened the car door.

Sam opened the room door and pulled Sherlock inside, closing the door behind him and putting the deadbolt on.

Dean banged on the door, screaming at him to open it.

"You want your proof?" Sam said aiming the phone toward Sherlock.

Sherlock leaned forward and watched the video, chuckling when Dean's pants fell down.

The video ended and Sam reached his hand out, expecting Sherlock to hand him forty dollars.

"You know," Sherlock said, "Dean's not the only one who's going to murder you."

He looked up at Sam his eyes completely black.

* * *

**Author's note: This story from now on will be updated weekly. I hope you are enjoying it. Feel free to review.**


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